


If you feel that it's real

by drinkingstars



Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Rocketman (2019), Rocketman (2019) RPF
Genre: First Time, Just Roll With It, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Smoking, of course, wildly inaccurate filmmaking details
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 08:49:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19989379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drinkingstars/pseuds/drinkingstars
Summary: Well let’s have a go, then.





	If you feel that it's real

Taron arrives to set in a good mood. They’ve had all the conferences and all the pre-production notes he can stand, and he’s ready to do this. He sits patiently through his hair and makeup, finishing one last coffee before they put on his teeth. He hates them, but only because they’re so uncomfortable. When he sees himself in the mirror wearing them, he instantly finds Elton again, every single time.

He doesn’t need to get dressed just yet, so he keeps on sweats and his robe and goes to find Richard, who’s already dressed, coiffed and ready. Richard’s having his tea, and nods Taron toward the outside doors that go to the smokers patio. Taron grabs some water and a straw, and Richard holds the door for him when he catches up.

“Morning, love,” Richard leans to press a kiss to his temple as Taron brushes unnecessarily under his arm and makes his way outside. It’s a nice day in London, sunny while still cool and crisp. Taron pulls a pair of Elton’s sunglasses out of his robe pocket and slips them on his face, beams at Richard with a faux toothy grin.

“Ar’you ready for me today?”

Richard tucks his cigarette into his mouth, lips curling around the filter. Taron watches him feel in his pocket for a fancy gold lighter, clicks it to ignite the tip, breathing deeply and letting out a plume of smoke deliberately away from Taron. It’s a thoughtful habit, and Taron always appreciates it.

“No amount of meetings can get me ready for all that,” Richard says, eyes twinkling as he looks up and down Taron’s body approvingly. Taron ducks his head and laughs.

“Naughty Dickie. It’ll be good. I’m excited, I think? That weird?” Taron bounces a little on the balls of his feet, eyes flicking occasionally to Richard’s lit smoke. He misses it sometimes.

“Weird to be excited to get it done? No...excited to have a shag with me? Yeah it’s a little weird,” Richard teases, crinkling his nose at Taron and stretching a little in the sun.

“Yeah cause you’re like, awful to look at. Who’d want that. Ew, snogging Dick Madden,” Taron fakes a full body shudder at the very idea and Richard shakes his head, takes another drag from his smoke.

“Are ya nervous, T? S’ok if you are.” Richard puts his hand comfortably at the small of Taron’s back and Taron shrugs.

“Not really if I’m honest? Had a wank this morning. Two, really. Should be tip top.” Taron looks at Richard and gives him his cheesiest smile and an enthusiastic thumbs up. Richard chokes on his smoke.

“You did, did you? Two? My god man. I dint need to know it but thanks? I think?”

“Just taking precautions. Don’t want to pop one off on you. What, you didn’t?” Taron might be devastated if Richard didn’t need to jerk off before doing this scene with him. He might pout about it. He feels the corners of his mouth pull down over his false teeth.

“Taron, love, I’m 32 years old. Ah’m no going to pop my banger because we roll around a wee bit.” Richard says, his eyes kind on Taron as he drops his cigarette and crushes it with his shoe. “Besides ye don’t even fancy me?” 

Taron shrugs. “Never know. It’s a lot of...parts. All touching. Just taking heed, see?” Richard nods sympathetically.

“Ay, sweet Taron. We’ll be great.” He pulls Taron into a hug and Taron lets himself be hugged, Richard’s arms around his robe until production calls for them on the PA system. “Go on, let’s go to work.”

*

They do a few takes, get the laughs and nerves out. They’ve already done a fair bit of kissing, and kissing Richard is great. It comes naturally, and Taron hardly minds the part where there’s hot lights warming the room and people yelling at them where to put their hands and chins and such. They take each other’s clothes off, get dressed and do it again, then unbuckle their pants and shimmy out of them about a hundred times. They laugh way too much, and Richard spends every down time rolled half on top of Taron either tickling him or whispering terrible jokes in his ear until they reset. 

Around them while they finish each shot, production strikes all but required crew a few dozen at a time. It’s barely noticeable until Taron realizes they’re naked except for cock socks and they’re finally moving on this time, and the room is calm. Richard had wanted Portishead playing so they’ve got Portishead playing, and it’s...nice. The lights don’t seem as bright as they had earlier and Dex is giving them space for this. 

They work out where their bodies are meant to go, and who lifts whose leg and when, and they do it a few more times. Richard smiles up from underneath him and says to Taron, softly, “great, mate. So good at this,” as Taron presses himself between his thighs and grins. 

Dex finally says cut, loud enough to be heard but as unobtrusively as he can. Taron places a parting kiss on Richard’s chest as he tries to stand, and someone’s there with his robe. He holds out a hand in offering to Richard. 

“Have ah got time for a smoke?” Of course, the first question Richard has.

Dex shakes his head at Richard and calls them over instead. “Do you want to come have a look, guys?” 

Taron gets a little nervous, pulls Richard up and along to the monitor.

“So this, I like all this,” Dex waves vaguely at the framed shot, their bodies and thighs slotted together. “This is...beautiful. Here,” he points and pauses the feed, “is where it’s not working. You’re pulling back this way, Taron, and if he’s here I can see light there, that’s no good, and here, if I can see this part of him, I’m meant to be seeing skin, yeah? Now I can relight this...but I can’t do anything about that, if you know what I mean.” Taron purses his lips, thinking about it because he _thinks_ he knows what Dex means. He looks at Richard to see if he’s thinking the same.

Richard nods and waves his hand vaguely in the area of his groin. “The thing is so uncomfortable. Ah hate wearin them, feels so weird. The fabric snags on his and then we move all wrong,” he explains. 

Taron bites into his lip as he thinks on it some more, then decides. “Not compulsory. If it’ll look better? I don’t mind if Dick doesn’t,” he says through his gapped fake teeth, not taking his eyes off Richard. Richard gives him a casual, cheesy thumbs up.

“Right then, let’s...reset, I guess?” Taron says, wanders back over toward the bed platform.

“No smoky?” Richard pouts and it’s so unbecoming but terribly attractive at the same time. Taron drops his robe and reclines, a little bit of challenge on his face. “I’m not the director, mate! Smoke if ya want, I’m ready whenever.”

Richard raises one eyebrow, and damn it, it’s charming, makes his way back over to Taron and gets on his knees beside him on the bed. “Well let’s have a go, then.”

*

They lose their robes again and some poor, poor assistant has to pick up their little fabric pouches that had held their cock and balls. Taron _thanks_ them as they scurry out of the shot and Richard laughs himself almost hoarse, burying his face in Taron’s bare chest.

“They broke the mold on you, T,” Richard says when he can get his giggles under control and Taron gives him a sharp pinch on his side, draws his attention back. “Ow, love,” Richard focuses, licking his lips slowly as he holds himself up between Taron’s thighs while someone moves a light. 

Taron feels his nerves kicking up again. He just wants to roll. “Sorry mate. Ar’you with me?” 

“Of course love, sorry. Got a bit giddy. Right here with you,” Richard purrs, stretches his arms out over Taron and pins him down while they wait. “Look so good to me, T. You’re doing great.”

“One for me?” Taron grins up at him, shifts his hips just a little in a way that puts his thigh right between Richard’s legs.

Richard glances around him and behind him to see that everyone’s still occupied and clucks his tongue at Taron. “Yes, yes, always one for you.” He’s already on top of him and it’s easy enough to drop his head between his arms and kiss Taron, sweet and soft until Taron parts his lips, makes a breathy, satisfied sound as Richard sweeps his tongue ever so lightly inside. Richard pulls back, rolls his weight to one elbow for a moment and clears his throat.

Taron touches his arm, grounding himself to settle into the hard mattress under him and licks his lips where Richard’s just kissed. “Glad you didn’t get that smoke,” Taron says, poking his tongue in his cheek because he’s a brat sometimes.

“Why’d you bring it up? Now ah’m wanting one, oi, arsehole.” He shoves at Taron’s shoulder gently and settles onto his side again, rests on Taron’s arm and chest while they still wait.

Taron reaches for Richard’s face, drags his thumb along Richard’s lips. “Taste better without em though,” Taron says, looking down at the top of Richard’s head. Richard nips at the tip of his thumb, pulls it between his teeth and bites. 

Dex says they’re ready to roll.

*

They push through two, three or maybe five long takes. Richard kisses him, strokes his hands up and down his back and ass, and Taron closes his eyes against the sensations on his skin, counts the beats in his head. Taron rolls Richard’s body under his and lifts his thighs, plows in between them and Richard throws his head back, keens under the motion. Richard is very convincing. Richard is quite beautiful.

They change angles, and someone mists them here and there with a spray bottle and then they do it again, again, rest and reset, Taron willing his arousal back down each time it tries to flare up. He tells himself it’s only natural, it’s friction and bodies and that’s just what they do.

Richard lowers his body onto Taron again, and Taron tilts his hips like he has been doing to make room for him but this time Richard is hard. Taron feels him, inhales sharply but doesn’t say anything, just makes space and lets Richard between his thighs. They lock eyes and Richard smiles, a soft sheepish face that Taron’s not fond of on him. Taron wants to kiss that face off of him, quite suddenly.

They keep rolling and Richard switches on, lowers himself further over Taron and kisses him, this one deep and open and Taron’s hips pop up unbidden, meet Richard’s in a thrust. Richard pulls back from the kiss and Taron curls his lip nervously, tilts his head almost imperceptibly to see if Richard wants to stop but no one has yelled cut, so they don’t. Taron rolls him and pins himself between Richard’s thighs, bends his head as he fucks up into him and asks through gritted teeth, “good, mate?”

Richard throws his head back and Taron presses down on top of him, buries his face into Richard’s neck, doesn’t bite him here but thinks he _would_ if they were alone. He thinks he shouldn’t be thinking that. He isn’t sure what to do, Richard’s thighs wrapped tight around him and Taron going through the motions against Richard’s hard cock trapped between them. 

“Ay, sorry. I might need...oh god T ah’m sorry love, fuck,” Richard ducks his head against Taron’s chest and comes, silent save a grunt deep in his chest that Taron can’t even hear, but feels in his own ribs. Taron covers him with his body, his arm up on the headboard and blocking Richard’s face. Taron can feel the wetness spreading between their bodies and Richard trying to quietly calm his frantic breathing, his chest heaving under Taron’s body and Taron tries to match his breath to Richard’s, make it loud and frenetic. 

“Ok, Dickie, ok. Um. Shit, I got this one mate.” Taron pauses, takes a breath to steady himself, and waves his arm. “Sorry, sorry, can we...I need to cut. Bathroom and a breather, sorry guys,” Taron keeps the excuse simple and yanks the sheet off the bottom of the bed, discreetly drags it across Richard’s belly and thigh and gets most of his orgasm off of him in one motion. Richard sits up carefully, rubs his hand across Taron’s damp back as they fumble around, and signals for his robe. 

Taron takes the stained sheet, wraps the dirty part toward him and the sheet all the way around like a toga. He steels himself, and saunters off the set to the confused looks of several of the production coordinators. “Rock and roll, you know, mates,” the only explanation he offers as they move in after him, muttering about the delay and start redressing everything. 

Dex furrows at Taron and rubs his forehead as Taron shuffles by in his sheet. Taron grins and shrugs. “Good stuff though, ay?”

Dex narrows his eyes, still dubious of whatever all _this_ is, but finally gives up and nods to the room. “Good work everyone, that’s lunch. Take sixty today, six zero, thank you.”

*

Taron is in his dressing room for all of four minutes before there’s a soft knock and Richard’s quiet voice at his door. He’s still looking about and figuring out what to do with the sheet, but opens the door a crack for Richard, still in his dressing robe, lets him in and locks it behind him.

“Did ya get a smoke?” Taron starts to ask but Richard grabs him by the fabric of the sheet and pushes Taron, hard, up against the door and covers his mouth in a kiss, somehow, still, even deeper and wilder and _more_ than anything they’ve just done on camera. Taron sighs and sinks into it, feels his shoulders finally relax down his back and the sheet drop off his hips as Richard presses into him, kisses him like he never really has before. It’s new and searching and Taron _wants_ , wants Richard to be kissing him like this, his hands reaching for the tie of Richard’s robe and slipping under the fabric, just grazing along his abs before Richard moves and slaps them away.

“I already came, you goose. What did ye do that for?” Richard asks, pinning Taron to the door with his body and bringing one hand down to wrap around Taron’s cock. He’s been half hard for what feels like his entire life at this point, wanks earlier this morning be damned, and Richard’s sudden decisive touch makes him gasp.

“Do what? Cover for you? You would for me. Coulda been me just the same, ah, oh god yes touch me…” Taron trails off as Richard puts one hand on the wall behind Taron’s head, leaving the space of his arm between them while he skillfully slides Taron’s foreskin back, gathers the wetness on Taron’s cockhead and jerks him off, slow and thoughtful.

“Any of it...you started me up Taron. Ah wis fine until you talked about _tasting_ me, kissing me, god T do you know what that does ta me?” Richard asks, mouth pressing the words warm and soft along Taron’s throat, and he didn’t smoke. Taron can smell him, and himself, and they smell the same now, like come and breath mints and rosewater.

“Well I do now,” Taron says, grinning like an idiot because he’s still wearing his hairpieces and his horrible teeth and Richard is getting him off. Richard kisses down his neck to his chest, takes one of Taron’s nipples between his teeth and bites, gently, flicks his tongue over it.

“That was embarrassing and you fixed it for me. That was the nicest thing, T. Maybe anyone’s done in a long time for me,” Richard murmurs into Taron’s skin and Taron takes his face in his hands, lifts him up to kiss him again, his tongue in Richard’s mouth and his hips thrusting his dick into Richard’s slick palm.

“Anything for you, Dickie, anything,” Taron says, digs his teeth into Richard’s bottom lip and comes with a groan and a shudder, his feet nearly coming out from under him but Richard holds him up until he’s finished, leaving messy spurts of white on Richard’s hand and the dark blue of his robe. 

Richard slowly lifts his hand to his mouth, sucks the side of his fingers clean while Taron watches, his head plunking back against the door when he can’t hold it up anymore. “Fuck me, Dickie. I didn’t know we was gonna get like this, I swear.” Taron shakes his head, feeling silly for not seeing this coming, so to speak.

“I hoped...ah mean ah think about you, I do. I thought maybe sometimes you did too...didn’t want to scare you off though,” Richard says, leans in to press a kiss to Taron’s sweaty forehead.

Taron laughs softly, curls naked around Richard and tucks his head over his shoulder. “I don’t frighten easy, mate.”

  


**Author's Note:**

> just a little ditty that came out of chat on a Schitt's Creek fandom Discord, because why not. inspiration can come from anywhere. I love the Rocketman fandom so happy to contribute, and very pleased we hadn't run out of Elton John lyrics for titles yet. especially this one.


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